


Oranges and Tuna

by TracingHerWay



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Male-Female Friendship, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-07 23:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TracingHerWay/pseuds/TracingHerWay
Summary: A series of short ideas/ficlets featuring missing moments and scenes from Nick and June’s story during Seasons 1 and 2.Told from Rita’s perspective.
Relationships: Nick Blaine/June Osborne | Offred
Comments: 22
Kudos: 76





	1. Jezebels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter of this work will focus on one episode of the series. This first one is set during episode 1x08, Jezebels.

I’m just laying the ingredients I need out on the kitchen island, ready to make that morning’s fresh loaf, when Offred comes through the back door, eyes alert, looking behind her—outside, towards the gate. A rare hint of a smile on her lips. Satisfied no one saw her, she turns her gaze in towards the room, but, when it lands on me, she stops dead.

It’s too early. I’ve got up an hour before normal this morning to catch up on chores, but usually I wouldn't see her for at least another two. And yet, here she is, fully dressed, in her Handmaid’s dress and bonnet. Has she been out all night?

“What are you doing?” I ask, frowning.

Seconds pass. Offred doesn’t say anything. She blinks. Gathers herself; swallows. Nods curtly, and continues past me, hiding from my glare.

“Blessed day,” she whispers, under her breath, and disappears quickly upstairs.

When she’s gone, I walk around the counter to the window above the sink and peer out. The sun is barely up; hazy, morning light catching the last of the dew on the leaves in the garden.

Nick is standing at the top of his stairs, wearing only a vest on top and lighting up a cigarette. He catches me staring, pauses, and then leans down on the railing, slowly breathing out his first drag. Watching me all the time.

The look in his eyes is all the answer I need.


	2. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during 1x10, Night.

When I walk back into the kitchen after helping Serena, Offred is gone, the breakfast I prepared her untouched. The quiet smile I had, thinking about the baby, falls from my face and I sigh, frustrated.

Nick is here instead, both hands gripping the worktop. He’s resting on his arms, holding himself up.

“Where did she go?” I ask.

“Mrs Waterford took her out,” he says, emotionless, sounding far away. “She said they didn’t need the car.”

I shake my head, clearing her plates away.I’ll wrap them for later. “She needs to eat.”

He raises up and turns to look at me, slowly.

“Do you know?” he asks, his jaw set.

I assume he means _do I know she’s pregnant_. I nod. Our eyes meet. His are sad, but there is also an edge of resolve there.

I’ve counted the days since I caught her leaving his apartment. I’ve been more alert to it since then… more observant. But I don’t think she’s gone to him again. I haven’t noticed anything between them. If anything, they’ve been colder with each other than they ever were before I saw her come in that morning. Nick hasn’t come in to the kitchen during mealtimes as much as he had before.

But it was only two weeks ago, that I saw them.

It could be his.

I know better than to ask. I know better than to voice it.

He looks shaken, though.

“Did you see her head?” I ask pointedly. He nods.

Our eyes lock again. We’re both thinking the same thing.

_Great house for a baby to grow up in._

That evening, from my window, I see him leave in the car.

Later, she knocks on his door above the garage. She sits on the steps, crying, but he’s not there. He’s out all night.

And the next day, she’s gone.


	3. Unwomen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during 2x02, Unwomen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Mentions of physical assault

I pile another dish on to the rack, watching from the window as Nick comes up the steps, past me and through the back door.

I’m about to nod good morning to him when I hear his footsteps stop a few feet away from me. I turn to look at him, and it takes me a moment to realize why he’s staring. The latest red mark on my temple. I’d gotten so used to the dull ache I’d almost forgotten about it.

“What happened?” he says. “You okay?”

She hit me again, first thing this morning. I lost my balance and fell into the counter.

I swallow the memory down, try and brush it off. “Yeah. She doesn’t like Mondays, I guess.”

It’s been two weeks since Offred went missing. Two weeks since a situation that I thought couldn’t get worse for me, did.

Nick’s up later than usual. I saw him leave last night. I didn’t hear him come back. He’s been out on patrol a lot at night. Extra security duties from Pryce.

At least, that’s what he tells Waterford. I have other ideas.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, _now_ you wanna help?” I ask sarcastically.

If he’d been here in the kitchen earlier, for his normal morning coffee, maybe she would have thought twice before launching herself at me. Not that it’s his fault. But she checks herself more when he’s around. It would have made a difference. I can’t help but feel a little bitter. I have to take my anger out on someone.

“You can take that laundry to the back room for me,” I say, nodding to the basket on the floor.

He nods and crouches down to pick it up. When he lifts it up, he lets out a pained grunt.

I scoff at his effort. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he mutters, but I don’t miss the smile curving at the corner of his lips. Like he’s remembering something. “Just stiff.”

That’s when I notice the purpley-red mark on the skin just above his collar.

“What’s that?” I ask, reaching for his neck to touch it. _If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a—_

“It’s nothing,” he dismisses quickly, pulling his collar up as he rests the weight of the basket on the counter. He coughs, and then glances at me nervously before carrying the basket out and heading out the room.

The last few days, there’s been something off with him. He seems lighter, as if there’s a weight off his shoulders. A spark—of something like hope.

I’ve heard about Mayday. Whispers at All Flesh. Muffins passed at Loaves and Fishes. But I’ve not been brave enough to listen too closely, and with every new bruise she inflicts, she knocks a bit more courage out of me.

But I know they exist. I know they are fighting: for all of us. I’ve read the letters I found behind Offred’s bathtub. I’m ashamed, sometimes, that I haven’t told anyone at the store I have them. That I haven’t asked what to do with them. But what good could a few words on paper do, in a place like this? It won’t make a difference.

I look back at Nick. Truth be told, though, I think he’s part of it all. I think he’s fighting too, in his own way. I know him well enough by now. He’s not one of them. He’s one of us.

I think he helped her.

I think he got her out.


	4. Other Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set just before the events of 2x04, Other Women

I hear her heels stalking quickly down the hall, as I’m preparing lunch.

“Blessed day, Rita,” Mrs Waterford says warmly, as soon as she comes in to the kitchen.

She’s smiling. She never smiles.

She doesn’t give me a chance to respond before she speaks again.

“I have good news.”

I just blink at her. She marches swiftly to the back door and opens it. Nick is cleaning the car in the drive; she yells for him—a little too loudly—and waits at the island, hands crossed, smiling to herself, waiting to deliver her announcement.

Nick comes in seconds later, closing the door behind him and walking to the threshold of the kitchen, stepping up to stand next to me.

She straightens her skirt and looks up brightly at us.

“Offred was found last night. Safe and well.”

My stomach drops. I hear him breathe out in shock. I don’t dare look at him.

“She was kidnapped. Taken against her will.”

_Taken against her will?_

I bite my tongue.

We were all taken against our will, four years ago. This was her rebellion, her chance at freedom. This was all her.

Nick just stands there, like a statue. Like he always does. Except this time he’s straighter. Frozen.

“Is she okay?” I ask eventually, because I realize one of us has to say something.

“Yes, Rita. She’s fine. The baby too.”

I nod. Priorities.

“Offred will be returning to us in a few days. Nick, I’d like you to move some of the furnishings out of her room.”

His jaw clenches. I can’t even hear him breathing any more.

“What furniture?” he forces out, slow, controlled.

“Everything except the mattress,” she says, without any hesitation, almost proudly.

I look down in shock. _What a bitch._

It’s punishment, of course. I'm dragged out of my thoughts when Nick finally speaks.

“She’s three months pregnant,” he responds flatly.

For a moment, I’m too stunned that he has challenged her to react. I'm surprised that he even dared. I glance up at Serena. Her eyes have narrowed, calculating. She didn't like that.

“Yes. I’m well aware of that, Nick. Will you see to it?”

A few seconds of silence pass. Too many. When I look nervously up at Nick, I see that he’s staring her down, his face hard; a blank wall.

I follow his gaze to her and I’m pleasantly surprised to see that he’s taken her off guard. She looks unnerved. He’s wiped the smile off her face.

He leaves it another few moments—a little bit longer for her to squirm—before replying.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, mouth set. There's nothing more he can do.

“Thank you.”

Unsettled, she quickly leaves the room.

Slowly, I rest the knife I was gripping down on the counter, and release my breath.

_I thought she was out. I thought she was safe_.

How can she still be in Gilead? After all this time?

My eyes fall back on Nick.

He doesn’t move. Still fixed on the spot. Every inch of him tense. Slowly, he turns to look at me.

I can see it burning in his eyes, behind the mask. Fire. Anger. Disgust. I recognise it because I have the same in me.

“Praised be,” he says, stone cold, and leaves.


	5. Seeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during 2x05, Seeds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Mentions of blood

I can’t sleep.

My head is full with thoughts of her, so I climb out of bed and down the back stairs. I need a change of scene; something to take the image of her limp body out of my mind.

As I cross the doorway into the kitchen, I start when I see Nick’s silhouette standing motionless over the sink. I didn’t realise he was back from the hospital. The room is dark; the only source of light coming from the wall lamps, outside, that shine dully through the window.

I don’t know if he notices me, as I walk slowly over to him. Every inch of him is tense. Like if he moves, he might snap.

“Hey,” I whisper, testing the waters.

He’s staring at his hands. I follow his gaze down and my heart skips a beat when I see them. There’s dried blood on them. Her blood. I wonder how long he’s been stuck like this. His knuckles are white from gripping the edge of the sink.

“Hey,” he says flatly. On autopilot.

“Is she okay?” I ask. Not sure I want to hear the answer.

“I don’t know,” he replies quietly; matter of fact. A hint of resentment. “They closed the doors on me at the hospital. Serena told me to go home.”

I have never seen Nick look anything other than measured. Professional. Composed. But right now? He’s a mess. He’s trying to hold it together but he is crumbling, literally shaking. I can see he’s about to lose it. It unsettles me, to see him like this. He’s become an unshakeable constant for me in this house—predictable and safe; someone I had learned I didn’t need to fear—but now he is fraying at the seams, too. The last two weeks have been too much, even for him. Especially tonight.

I was the one that found them, first, in the garden: I heard Nick screaming for help as I finished up washing the dishes. I’d never heard him sound like that before. What I know now from the way he reacted—the way he was cradling her, his expression—is that, whatever it is—between them—it’s not just sex. Not just a flirtation or a whim. It means something to him. Something much more than that. That much is clear.

I remember when Matthew was home on leave from the military, after his first tour. He used to wake up with nightmares, yelling, like Nick had tonight, and I’d sit with him on his bed, his head in my arms, until he finally fell back to sleep, like I had when he was younger. It didn’t matter how old he was, how brave he wanted to be brave; in those moments, in the dark of the night, he still needed his mother, just the same.

I only had him home for a couple of months when the War began. They called him away again, to fight. He wasn’t ready. But I had let him go.

What happened earlier tonight is my fault. I should have checked Offred was okay when I saw her stumbling up the stairs; tried harder to get through to her. She’d not been right all day, and I knew it. _Who am I kidding? She’d not been right all week._ I should have done more.

But I can try to help him, now. That is something I _can_ do.

“Come on,” I say, gently. “Wash your hands.” I turn the tap on and hold the soap out to him.

We stand in silence as he takes it and cleans them off, scrubbing his skin raw.

His coat is draped over the counter. It’s got blood on it, too. When he’s done, he picks it up to rinse it too, but I cover my hand with his and shake my head.

“Let me do that. I’ll wash it tomorrow.”

I don’t tell him about the basket in the laundry room. Filled with Offred’s clothes; the ones I found in her room after they’d driven off for the hospital. The other clothes I need to wash. He doesn’t need to know about them. No one does.

“You should go up,” I say. “She’ll be waiting.”

_She. _The new Mrs Blaine.

He glances through the window up to his apartment, like he’d forgotten. The light is on. He closes his eyes, inhales, and lets out another shaky breath, and I think, maybe, that he’s going to be sick. He swallows. It’s as if it’s all he can do just to keep breathing.

I put my hand on his back. For all the shit I normally give him, he’s just as trapped as we are. More than ever now.

“Get some sleep.” I say. “She will be okay. She was still conscious.” _Just_.

He blinks down at the worktop, and nods, letting out a sigh. Grateful for the reassurance, I think. He sniffs and then releases his grip on the sink.

But he doesn’t move. There’s something else.

He looks up at me. Dark pools of brown.

“What about the baby?” he breathes, his voice cracking with fear.

So, it is his.

From the look in his eyes, it must be.


	6. First Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during 2x06, First Blood.

I take the soup down the hall, grateful for a moment’s peace from Eden. She’d been following me around like a shadow all morning. Her intentions are helpful enough, but she’s slow at almost every task I gave her—taking too much care, too much attention to detail—and now I’m behind on my chores.

I needed a break, so I served up Offred’s lunch on to a tray and left Eden with the rest.

I’m just about to enter the sitting room when I hear Offred talking to someone and halt my footsteps.

“I think about it, too.”

Serena is upstairs. Eden is in the kitchen. The Commander is out. There’s only one other person who could be in the room.

I glance back at the kitchen door, checking that Eden hasn’t followed me. I don’t want to interrupt them, not after what both of them they’ve been through in the last week, but... they need to be more careful. Besides, the soup will go cold.

I walk tentatively around the corner into the room and my suspicions are confirmed. They are standing inches apart, eyes locked, oblivious to me, even as the floorboards creak under my weight. I’ve walked in on some kind of moment.

This is the first time I’ve seen them touching. His hand is wrapped around hers but he snaps it away when he hears me cough. The new gold ring on his finger glints as he moves.

“Soup. As ordered.”

There’s a moment of awkwardness as they move in line with each other, caught. Nick looks like he’s scolding himself for letting his guard down, as he folds his hands behind his back. For being seen like this with her. They trust me, but it’s who I could have been that they should worry about.

“I’m really sorry she’s making you run around like this,” Offred replies.

I shake my head. “You milk it while you can.”

She smiles at me in thanks, and the tension in the room fades.

“Smells good. Where’s mine?”

_Fucking cheek_. I see he’s back to his normal self.

It’s a low blow, but after that remark, he deserves it:

“Ask your wife.”

As I turn away, I catch sight of the smirk creeping on to her face. She loved that.

I take one more glance back at them as I leave the room.

It made him smile, too.

I’m glad.


	7. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set just before the events of 2x07, After.

“No, not like that. The way I showed you.”

_How hard is it to chop an onion the right way?_ I yank the kitchen knife from Eden and show her for what feels like the tenth time how I want it prepared.

Her mind is elsewhere. It has been all morning. She keeps smiling to herself. Happier than I’ve seen her since the wedding day. Nick, on the other hand, was silent before he left this morning. No greeting, no conversation, nothing. He didn’t even look me in the eye.Came in, drank his coffee, and out again. Normally he’d drink it slowly, on the off chance that _she_—Offred—would come down before he’d finished it, and give him an excuse to stay. But not this morning. He disappeared with the Commander without a word.

A knock at the door brings me back to the present. I wait for the sound of Mrs Waterford walking to the door, checking I’m not needed; when she answers, I focus back on the task at hand.

Offred watches Eden and I now, sitting at the island and eating the plate she didn’t finish at breakfast. Every now I catch her eye and see the amusement on her face as I struggle with this _child_ they’ve given me. The days used to drag on and on in boredom, but now all I want is a moment’s quiet from this lost little girl at my side.

As I stew silently, we continue with our work, and I try and ignore Serena’s voice increasing in intensity at the door.

Eden shouldn’t be here. She makes it worse. The worst part is that she thinks all this is fine. She’s grateful to be here. Just another reminder of this broken world. She should be at a shopping mall somewhere, free, texting a boy she fancies and gossiping with her friends. Not learning to play house for a husband twice her age that she’d never even met. A man who never wanted her and never will, for reasons she doesn’t understand. Brainwashed. It makes me sick. It makes me angry. And I hate myself for taking my anger out on her. But there’s no one else.

I hear the front door closing and straighten up, shaking myself from my thoughts.

Serena comes in, visibly shaken. Instantly, the mood in the room changes. Her eyes flit between us. She doesn’t look right. Her face holds an expression I haven’t seen before.

Genuine fear.

“There’s been an explosion at the new Rachel and Leah Center.”

_What?!_

“A bomb,” she continues. “Casualties. The Commander is injured.”

Her voice is frantic, panic bubbling under the surface. We watch her in stunned silence. Offred stands up from her place at the table, as if pulled to her feet by the news.

_A bomb._

Mayday.

I don’t know what to think. What casualties?

“Rita, will you wrap me some food to take,” Serena orders quickly. ”I’m going to the hospital.”

All I can do is blink, and nod. She leaves the room and her heels race loudly up the stairs, punching in to the silence. We hear her begin to scramble for her things upstairs, moving quickly between rooms.

I glance back at Offred. I can’t read her expression. If I didn’t know better—but then, maybe I do—I’d say she looked almost excited. There is something perverse about the look in her eye.

Eden looks between us nervously, like a deer in headlights. She turns to Offred.

“Do you think Nick is okay?”

And that question stops her in her tracks. Wherever Offred’s mind was wandering to, that stops it dead. She hadn’t thought of that.

Her eyes flit to me, and I see a spike of fear in the whites of her eyes. But she swallows it down and smiles back at Eden.

“Yes, of course,” she replies sincerely, playing her role. Reassuring her: only the smallest hint of a quiver in her voice. “Mrs. Waterford would have said something if he was hurt.”

Eden nods and looks back down at the chopping board.

Offred and I share a silent look.

_Would she? Would she have said anything at all?_

_Would she have even thought to ask?_

And Offred sinks down in her chair, gripping the table. Staring blankly into space, appearing suddenly lost.

It’s the same way Nick looked after they took her to the hospital.

***

And so, we wait. Someone picks Serena up, she leaves, and we wait.

It’s like that the rest of the day. Just us. We don’t hear anything. The silence in the house is deafening.

Eden has got steadily more worried throughout the day, the longer Nick’s not been home. We’ve had to talk her down a couple more times. I have lost count of the number of times her head has spun up at the hum of an engine on the road outside. And there have been a lot of them, each bringing with it more guardians on the street. Armed and black.

Offred, on the other hand, has barely moved. I’ve tried to make conversation a couple of times, but I’ve got nothing back, just some single word reply and no more. Her mind is elsewhere.

In the afternoon, a couple of soldiers knocked on the door. Searching the Commander’s office. We were too nervous to ask either of them for an update. They weren’t in the mood to chat. But they left as suddenly as they arrived. It’s strange to be alone here. Left to our own devices for this long. I think of all the Marthas and Handmaids in the houses along the street, shut away, unobserved. Momentarily free, but trapped inside by the terror of the guns lining the street, like flies caught in a web.

As darkness closes in on the house, and still no word from anyone, we sit and look at our dinner. None of us really touching it. I cooked it and even I am not hungry.

I wonder to myself what would happen to us if the Commander is dead. Would Mrs Waterford stay here on her own? Would we stay here, with her? Offred is pregnant, of course. I imagine she’d stay because of that. But would Aunt Lydia let them stay together in this house, at each other’s throats? Maybe she would be taken back to the Red Centre.

Eden and Nick would have to move, surely.

If Nick is alive, that is. A chill runs down my spine.

_What if all the Commanders are dead? What if they don’t need all these houses; all these Marthas and Handmaids. Not anymore?_

_What if I get sent to the Colonies…_

I don’t dwell on that thought for too long. Finally, we hear a car. Closer than before. An engine turns off.

Eden stands up at once, her chair scraping a tear in to the silence, and turns to the back window.

I can see Offred holding her breath. I don’t think she even realises she’s doing it.

“It’s him. It’s Nick,” Eden smiles excitedly. “Praise be.”

A clang comes from where Offred was sitting.

“Sorry.” She dropped her fork. Her eyes are closed, frowning in relief. Hand on her belly. “Baby kicked.” I think she only says it for cover.

Eden comes back towards us, and stands, and waits. Her hands clasped together perfectly. Obediently.

I hear Nick’s footsteps coming up the steps outside, his profile appearing as he reaches the top.

He swings the door open and starts, not expecting to see all three of us there, staring up at him.

“Hey,” he says softly, tired. Then he coughs, checking himself, glancing at Eden. “Under His Eye.”

Eden walks up to him and grabs his hands. His arm twitches, as if repelled by her touch. I’m reminded of how he was this morning.

“We were so worried,” she explains. “We didn’t know if you were alright.”

He blinks. Unused to being the focus of attention; surprised by this show of emotion from her, maybe. Surprised that we would worry about him, in the midst of all of this.

“I’m fine.”

And then, she does something I don’t expect. She actually hugs him.

“Thanks be to God.”

Nick almost recoils from it, but eventually he puts his hand up to her back, returning the gesture awkwardly.

But it gives _them_ a chance to have a moment. Nick looks over Eden’s shoulder, right at Offred.

And she just looks back, not even trying to hide the relief washing over her face, as she smiles up at him.

Peace isn’t something you find often in this brutal place. But I see it between them, then. A moment of it, underneath all the pain.

When Eden pulls back, he glances away at once, and I stand up.

“Do you want any dinner?” I ask him, distracting them.

Nick shakes his head and coughs.

“How is the Commander?” Eden asks.

“He’s in surgery. I just came home to get some things from his office, and to change. I’m still wearing what I was when it—“ he stops. Sets his jaw, shakes his head slightly. “I need to get back.” He starts walking towards the hall.

“What happened?” I say. ”Are there a lot of casualties?”

He stops, with his back to me. Pivots his head back toward me. “Yes.”

“No one has told us anything,” Offred adds quietly, hinting for more. He turns wordlessly around, surveying us as we wait, and I see him weighing up what to say. The light where he is stood now catches him at a different angle. I take in the bags under his eyes; the grey in his hair and on his suit. Dust. From the explosion?

He looks exhausted. Like he’s seen a lot today.

“It was during the opening ceremony. There were a lot of injuries. Commanders,” he pauses, looking at Offred. “And Handmaids.”

She frowns at him. Her moment of reprieve is over. She’s pulled back to reality.

“Is Al—…is Ofrobert okay?”

He swallows. “I’m not sure.”

“What about Ofglen?”


	8. The Last Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during 2x10, The Last Ceremony

I walk down the stairs, through the silent hall, my footsteps and the murmur of Commanders talking faintly in Waterford’s office the only sound.

Pausing before I open the door, I’m nervous for the news I have to deliver. Unsure of their reaction. I collect myself, roll over what I should say, and pull my normal wall back up; my only shield against their condescending looks and words.

As I push the doors open and enter the Commander’s office, my fear dissipates as I remember that I am invisible to them, especially on a day like today. They don’t even look up. Only Nick sees me, standing by the door, hands crossed behind his back like a solder standing to attention. He looks at me nervously, eager for any news. I head straight for him, and lean into his ear, whispering:

“It was false labour. The contractions have stopped.”

Realisation washes over his face, and a small, victorious smile crosses his lips as he glances to the other men.

I escape back out the door, biting my cheek to stop myself from smiling, but once I’m in the privacy of the deserted hallway, I steal a few moments to listen.

I hear Nick moving towards where Waterford is sitting. He coughs.

“Commander Waterford, sir, can I speak with you a moment?”

Waterford was deep in conversation, laughing at something one of the others had to say.

“What is it, son? Anything you have to say, you can say in front of these fine gentlemen. Especially on a day like today.”

That’s all the invitation Nick needs.

“It was false labour, Sir. The baby’s not coming,” he says, loud enough that everyone in the room can hear.

The silence cuts through the room like a knife. Waterford shuffles in his seat.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Another few seconds of silence, before one of the other Commanders breaks the tension.

“I’m sure it will only be a matter of days, Fred. Your child is under God’s care. Only He knows what’s best.”

I can practically hear the thin, forced smile on Waterford’s lips.

“Of course. Praised be.”

***

After the men and their Wives, the Handmaids and the Aunts have gone, I’m wrapping up the unused food by the sink. Nick appears in the door and sidles over to the counter next to me, eyeing me as his fingers taps the worktop nervously.

“You okay?” I ask Nick quietly, too quiet for anyone to hear.

He glances at the kitchen doorway, double-checking no one is in ear shot.

“Yeah. How is she?"

My lips curve into a smile.

“You should have seen her up there. Wiped the smile right off her face.”

Nick smirks and nods his head, imagining the scene I just witnessed with Serena. “I bet she did.”

He sees Eden—tidying the mess from the dining table—watching us, then, and nods to her, avoiding any interaction as he walks briskly past her to the back door, unhooking his coat and pulling it on. He moves outside, down the back stairs, and I watch him by the car as he digs his hand into his pocket for a cigarette, lighting up.

That’s when I see him catch sight of her in the window. It could only be her: Mrs Waterford sent her up to her room as soon as the hosting was over. Furious that she had to wait another day.

He mouths up to her. “You okay?”, then, after a few moments, smiles and gives her a small nod.

I think about my labour with Matthew. My husband was there, in the room. I spent a good chunk of it screaming at him, telling him I hated him, telling him to get out. But he was there. He saw his baby come in to this world.

A smile and a nod. That’s all Nick can do. That’s all they have.

It’s not right.


	9. Holly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during 2x11, with a flashback to the events of 2x10
> 
> Trigger warning: References to the 2x10 rape (not explicit/graphic), and implied emotional/physical abuse

When they come home, they are screaming at each other, still, exactly as they were when they left. Words like _Idiot. _And _run away. Loyal._ _Stupid. Daughter. Father._

Straight away, Fred slams his office door shut and gets on the phone, reporting his missing pregnant Handmaid and Guardian.

She stalks in to the kitchen, on fire, and—of course—she takes it out on me.

But her searing anger won’t scare me today. I spent last night lying in bed, promising myself that I would fight. I went to Loaves and Fishes this morning—just after Nick drove June off in the car—and I spoke to Beth. I told her I wanted in. However I could help, whatever wheels were turning: I wanted in.

Because after what happened last night, something has to change. Enough now.

***

When I went up to her room after dark, and told her that she’d been summoned, I thought Serena just wanted to exchange a few choice words after the events of the previous day; her usual bullshit. Offred could handle her, I knew that. So I barely gave it a second thought.

But, later, after Eden went to take the trash out, that’s when I heard him—the Commander—coming down the stairs. Eden had been saying something to me, before, and I was distracted, cleaning the vases, so I didn’t notice that he had gone up. It didn't occur to me to watch out for anything.

When I saw him come in to view as he reached the bottom stair, and stop for a second in the doorway of the kitchen, looking guilty, I knew something was wrong. He knew I was there, watching him, but he didn’t look at me.

I heard his office door close, and my mind raced, realising that there were only a handful of reasons he could be in Serena’s room at this time of evening. And only one that involved Offred. The look on his face chilled me, but I didn’t dare believe I was right. Even in this place.

For a few minutes, I listened out for footsteps upstairs, some sign of life, but it didn’t come. All the while, the blood pounding in my ears got louder, my pulse racing, a sick feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. Eden hadn’t come back in from the garden—she wouldn’t see me—so I headed straight up the stairs. The door to Serena’s room was ajar. I couldn’t see her inside through the slit in the doorway.

Just as I was about to knock, Offred came out, and all the air in my chest vanished at the sight of her. Her face white as a sheet; empty. Broken.

I froze, realising I was right to have imagined the worst. I realised what I had led her into, without knowing.

_"Mrs Waterford wants to see you."_

_Fuck._

She walked straight past me, very slowly. Not meeting my eyes. Not saying a word, not acknowledging my presence. Just cradling her belly as her other hand reached for the bannister, pulling herself up.

“Offred? Are you okay?”

She just kept going, silent, up the stairs. I wondered what I should do. What could I possibly do? Should I follow her? Would she want me to? Should I get Nick?

“Offred.”

She paused, then, and without turning to look at me, she spoke.

“June.”

I frowned. “What?”

“My name is June,” she’d said, quietly, with a weight of finality, and disappeared.

***

That was the last I saw of her. I didn’t see her this morning; I was in the drawing room when Fred took her outside. I came back in the kitchen just in time to see them drive off. I didn’t know where they were going, but at least it was just them: her and Nick, alone. At least they would have a few moments together.

Her face last night has played over and over in my head, all last night and all day, on my mind as light turned into dusk, turned into night. I stare outside through the window. There’s just black.

_She was nine months pregnant._

Something inside me has woken up from this numbness—this hollow, resigned anger—that I’ve felt for the last months. Years. Since I was first taken. From the bitter, repressed grief since Matthew died. All those ceremonies I’ve stood by and watched, emotionless (it was easier that way than allowing myself to feel what was really happening). I chastise myself that it took being confronted with this for the realisation to hit me in the face.

There must be a way to stop this. There’s more of us than there are of them. And we are stronger. If I can help, I want in.

I feel icy cold water on my feet suddenly andlook down, realising I left the tap running too long, overflowing the sink. Lost in my thoughts.

As I sink down to mop up the puddle, my mind drifts back to Nick.

I never thought he would try to escape with her. If that’s what’s happened. If what I think I overheard is right. I wonder if she told him about last night. I wonder whose idea it was, hers or his.

I hear footsteps behind me and Eden kneels down next to me, helping me to clean the water. She gives me a nervous smile. I forgot she was even in the room. She has been unusually silent lately. As we crouch there, on the floor, I glance up at her and see her brow, furrowed, just like mine is. Deep in thought. Confused and unsure… about Nick? Somehow, I don't think so. She was like this even before we learned he was missing. Eden has been in the garden most of the day. I haven’t asked what she’s been doing. What does it matter, any way? I have bigger concerns today; we all do.

I hope I never see Nick and June again.

For their sake. Not in this place.

If I do see them again, it will be on the Wall. _Surely_.

As that thought crosses my mind, sending a shiver over my skin, I hear the phone ring again from Fred’s office. He has left the door open. At first, his tone is urgent, snappy, but then, it changes. He sounds grateful.

Serena’s heels hammer down the hall, practically in a run. Her voice is frantic too, asking him what’s happened. Eventually, I hear her begin to cry. She sounds happy; relieved. Eden and I share a look.

We don’t hear everything. But we hear enough.

She’s been found. With a newborn.

A baby girl.


	10. Postpartum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set before the events of 2x12, Postpartum

I come in through the side door with a heap of dry laundry from the courtyard and find Nick sitting on the kitchen table opposite, looking down, curled inward, gaze fixed on a mug of coffee in his hands. When he sees me, he gives me a nod in greeting.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Without thinking, I set the laundry down on the table in front of him and start folding. Not that there’s much that needs it. Most of it is small anyway. Knitted. Hats. Cardigans. Booties.

He studies the pieces, taking each item in as I lay it down. I suddenly feel guilty, like I should have thought this through before I started laying his daughter’s clothes—the daughter I don't think he’s even touched—out in front of him.

“She was crying again, a few minutes ago,” he says, flatly. Then: “She cries all the time.”

I nod back at him, my face sombre. He’s right. Don’t I know it. It’s me that has to try and comfort her most of the time, when Serena finally gives in and admits that she can’t take it any more.

“How’re you doing?” I test the waters, wondering if he wants to talk. We haven’t had much time alone at all lately, I’ve been so busy.

He scoffs, shaking his head. Smiling sadly. Like it doesn’t matter how he’s doing. Like it’s never mattered. His attention goes back to his cup, but he stares straight through it.

“I heard it over a radio speaker. That she was born.”

I stop folding.

“The guardians who took me… they had me in a holding room, questioning me. I’d been in there for hours. I kept telling them to contact Waterford... that it was classified… that they had to take me back to the house _right now_…”

“And then I heard it. One of them had forgotten to turn their comms off and... the call came through. They said the neighbours had heard gunshots.” The words keep coming, rolling out of him, like he can’t keep them in any longer. Maybe he did need to talk. I listen and let him speak.

“...and they said they’d found a Handmaid, with a baby... that there was a lot of blood,” he swallows, “and they were taking her to the hospital...”

He stops, and sticks his jaw out, biting his tongue. The flood of words dissipates. He sighs, frustrated, long and shaky, and I feel like I’m intruding. I’m not sure if he wants me there, or if he’s forgotten I’m even in the room.

“And then they left the room. And I didn’t know anything until the next day.” His chin quivers, his voice thick.

I frown. Unsure what to say. We fall into silence as I reach the bottom of the pile and start putting the sorted clothes back in the basket to take upstairs. Nick doesn’t move, still remembering. I feel like I should bring him back to the present.

“She looks like you.”

I say it quietly, barely daring to in this house, but loud enough that he can hear. When I look back at him, the look on his face breaks my heart—those big brown eyes he has shining up at me. Vulnerable. Hurting. But there’s a spark of hope there.

His jaw clenches. “You think?”

I smirk a little and give him a firm nod. “Oh yeah. She’s got your mouth. Not your eyebrows though, thank God...”

We both laugh at that, and he sniffs and nods, taking the joke on the chin. His smile is wider than I’ve seen in a long time, and then he regains his composure, glancing up at me with a warm expression.

“Thank you,” he says. Then, a beat. “Thank you for looking after her.”

At that moment, Eden walks through the door, her head down, lost in her thoughts and grinning to herself. She comes to a halt at the threshold of the conservatory, standing in the top step and smiling down at us.

“Mrs Waterford let me hold the baby,” she sighs happily. “She’s so beautiful. God is good.”

I peek back at Nick and his mask is already back up. He stares blankly, and, to his credit, he manages a small, empty, practised smile for her. “Praise be,” he says, so low I can barely hear it.

When she turns away, I see he’s clutching the handle of his mug, his hand wrapped tight in a fist.

“I pray that He will grace me with a child one day,” she continued. “I can’t wait to have a family.”

I watch as the colour that remained on Nick’s face after recounting his ordeal slowly drains further away.

When neither of us respond, Eden snaps her head back suddenly, as if she’s been caught. She looks between Nick and me.

“I mean... I.... I can’t wait for _us_ to have a family.”

He looks wearily at her. I feel like I’m missing something. It feels like she said it more for my sake than for him. I’ve gotten better at recognising an act.

But the next line she comes out with punches us both right in the gut.

“You’ll be a wonderful father one day.”

My mind reels. I can’t imagine anything worse she could have said at that moment. Little does she know.

Nick blinks, setting his jaw, and stands up. He walks wordlessly to the sink to wash up his cup and her gaze follows him, frowning and nervous, aware that she’s said something wrong, but oblivious nonetheless.

After a minute, she tries to break the awkward silence with more small talk.

“Mrs Waterford told me what she’s going to call her. She said she’d just decided.”

I nod, trying to distract myself. Trying to feign interest. “Yeah?”

“Nichole.”

A second later, I hear the mug Nick was washing smash on the floor, slipping right out of his hand.

_Nichole. Nick._

_Nichole._

_What the fuck?_


	11. The Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during 2x13, The Word.

“Okay, just hold the back of her head. She’s still a little wobbly.”

My heart swells as I watch Nick nervously take hold of his daughter through the crack in the door. I can’t help but watch.

“There you go. Just like that.”

I can see the love in his eyes. The awe. Like any nervous, new father. So unsure of himself, so scared, but trying. And he does just fine. He takes her in his arms like a natural. I smile, something about this moment filling up the emptiness of this place, even if only for a second.

“Hey, sweetie,” he whispers, under his breath.

We’ve not spoken since Eden. When I’ve caught his eye, we’ve both been too choked up for words.

I think he blames himself, like I do.

If we had been kinder. If she hadn’t felt so alone. If we’d tried to make her understand how things really were. Then maybe she’d still be here now.

But June is right. It’s not our fault. It’s _theirs_.

As I take them in—mother, father, and child—the initial warmth I felt quickly turns sour. This image adds fuel to the furnace of anger burning me up inside. Once again, I’m reminded of how sick and twisted this prison is. How it took five weeks for a new father to hold his daughter for the first time. How even something as pure as this moment has to be hidden away.

I shouldn’t be watching them, I think, turning away and giving them some privacy. I’m intruding. I should let them have this one thing.

And as I walk down the stairs, each step I take presses a thought deeper into my resolve.

_This has to change._

I head back down to the kitchen and monitor the greenhouse carefully from the window. Serena is tending some plants, even though it’s after dark. She’s had to steal her moments gardening these last few weeks. The Commander is out tonight, so no risk there. Just her.

My mind drifts back to Eden. How many girls would they have to drown before justice was served to them. Would it be Nichole, standing on that diving board—hanging from the Wall, for love—in a few years’ time?

All we’ve been working on underground for the last few weeks… What are we waiting for? If we all stay silent, too afraid to move the final pieces, then nothing will ever change.

It’s time. I couldn’t save Eden. I lost my son. But maybe I can save this one girl.

I keep guard for them, my mind turning over—planning—as I stay alert for any movement from Serena outside. But in the end, I don’t need to. I hear Nick close the door to the nursery, knowing his moment couldn’t last forever; that it had to end. They couldn’t risk being caught. When the door clicks shut, I listen closely. I hear him sniffing at the top of the stairs. Then, a sigh—heavy, determined, shaken—and his footsteps treading slowly down the stairs. When he rounds into the kitchen, he’s wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

“You okay?” I ask quietly.

He stops in front of the island, still and heavy. He looks tired. Drained. Laden down with the weight of everything. He braces his arms on the counter facing me, and takes a moment. His face is a strange mixture of happiness and sadness, as if his mind won’t allow him to feel just one thing—like there’s a price he has to pay for that moment, and he’s trying to weigh up the cost already. His mind at war with itself.

I decide to interrupt his thoughts, with my own.

“I think I can get them out.”

His eyes snap up from the worktop immediately and his brow furrows a little.

“What?” he breathes out, incredulous.

“You heard me,” I confirm.

Nick stares at me in silence. I don’t need to explain any more than that. The less he knows the better, and he knows enough. I know that he’s an Eye. That he’s part of the network, though we’ve never spoken about it ourselves. It’s what I’ve pieced together, since I’ve been working with the Marthas. A little bird here. Another there.

There are so many things we can’t say in this house, we have learned to speak without saying a word. His eyes are the question, and mine are a promise.

It can’t wait any longer. It has to be now. If there’s a chance, he has to let me take it. And he knows it. Even more now he has so much at stake. His family. His daughter’s chance for a normal life, free with her mother. Even if he won’t be part of it, though it kills him.It’s what he wants for them. I know it.

Even if he dies here. Even if that moment in the nursery was all he had.

He loved them, and that was enough.

“When?”

“Soon,” I reply, with as much meaning as I can muster.

_Very soon_. I’ll get a message out in the morning, at the grocery store. Give them the signal.

Nick looks down, thinking hard. Then, finally, he gives me a nod. Firm and sure.

And that’s all the blessing I need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who’s read this fic and commented. When I first published the first chapters I wanted to finish the whole thing in a couple of weeks - whoops, my bad!
> 
> There were some interesting missing pieces to explore and it was nice to go back into the world of Seasons 1 & 2. I miss it! I don’t really think Rita knew as much regarding Nick and June as I’ve written here (I think I pushed the canon a little too far in places), but it’s all within the realms of possibility, I hope, so you can choose your own canon! I think the truth is probably somewhere in between. It’s been a fun exercise. I have thought of a couple of speculative S4 one shots from Rita’s POV that could act as sequels to this. But I’m busy writing something else (still N/J related) right now.
> 
> Hope everyone stays safe and well at this current strange and uncertain time! Thanks again for reading.


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